


Hate and love, a Four letter Word

by bowlegsanddimples



Category: Bomb Girls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlegsanddimples/pseuds/bowlegsanddimples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorna absolutely hates Marco, right? So when he kisses her, why does she kiss back? Why does she expect the whole world to suddenly change? Because of course it doesn't. And why would it? After all, nothing's changed. Not really. And she really doesn't like him, not at all. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate and love, a Four letter Word

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work but I hope you enjoy it all the same! This is my second Lorna/Marco fic. I love this couple so much, I seriously ughhh! I can't take how much I love them! I really hope you all like it and who knows, maybe this'll inspire some of you to pick up a pen and paper (or laptop) and write some fanfics of your own for this amazing pairing! I can't be the only one, Guys! (Don't make me beg!)
> 
> also Disclaimer: I don't own anything Bomb Girls related... If I did, Lorna and Marco would still be together raising a beautiful half Italian, half Canadian baby in unwedded bliss :)

He kissed her. He actually kissed her! Again. The nerve, the sheer arrogance of that man! And then he had the gall to be so smug, with his 'Goodbye Lorna', she mockingly thought. It served him right, being fired. So maybe she had planted the newspaper that had subsequently led to his arrest and his security clearance being ruined. He definitely deserved it with his rakish behavior. She was a happily married woman before he came along. Or at least she was content with pretending to be. Then there was all that talk about hiding a decent heart and her having secrets. Was he trying to compliment or insult her? Maybe neither. Hell, maybe both.

What was worse though was that for a moment, a single fleeting moment, she had allowed herself to give in to her treacherous wants and had kissed him back. Before suddenly coming to her senses, that is. Well enough sense to get out of there before she let it go any further, at least. Not enough sense to slap him silly though. She had simply bid him a sorry excuse of a goodnight and hightailed it out of there.

Which is how she now found herself walking home in a clouded daze, completely drenched from the sudden downpour of rain. She could barely even recall how she had made it back but there she was, standing in front of the door that suddenly seemed impossibly large, looming over her. She opened it still with a cautious step forward, looking around her hesitantly. After a few moments of nothing, she let out a breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding.

The world didn't come crashing down. No infuriated shouting awaited her, not so much as a pen drop. Just silence. She sagged against the door in a somewhat ashamed relief. Of course. What had she been expecting, that Bob had suddenly developed psychic abilities and would immediately know of her betrayal? That he would be sitting there waiting for her, face wrought with disgust? The whole thing was laughable really, in a tragically non comical way.

Of course he wasn't there, why should he be? He didn't know that twice now she had kissed a man other than him, a man that infuriated, yet intrigued her in a way that no other man ever should. A man that was beginning to inhabit her thoughts more and more with each passing day. She was in trouble, big trouble. And that trouble just so happened to be wrapped in the form of one Marco Moretti.

Her fingers brushed across her lips ever so softly and brought back with it such sweet, delicious agony she almost couldn't stand it. That moment was still there, seared into her brain, filed away to hopefully become nothing more than a forgotten memory. She had to forget. There was really no other choice. Because she was married to a good man. And she didn't even like Marco, right? Besides, it wasn't her fault that this hot blooded Italian couldn't keep his lips to himself. What was once dismal confusion now settled into an angry, bitter, still very much confused lump in the pit of her stomach.

'Right, so if you don't like him then what's causing the heat in your cheeks and why's your heart beating so loudly?', that annoying voice in the back of her head seemed to shout at her. It was like a slap in the face, now even her own mind was beginning to turn against her. What was next? A shiver suddenly ran through her and she was startled out of her thoughts, becoming aware of her heavy soaked clothing and the puddle that had already formed at her feet. She sighed. Great.

She hated him. Of course she hated him. 

So why did she find herself smiling as she drifted off to sleep that night? Dreams playing in her head that she wouldn't allow herself to remember tomorrow. And if she did remember, well she certainly wouldn't allow herself to acknowledge it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm, I'm pretty happy with how this turned out after all... A little rough around the edges but not bad. Let me know what you guys think, constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
